


You Ignite My Soul

by kaelyx67



Series: NaNoWriMo [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Penetrative Sex, Post-Demon Dean, Post-Episode: s10e03 Soul Survivor, Schmoop, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaelyx67/pseuds/kaelyx67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It made them realize they need each other, always, in every way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Ignite My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> For my beautiful wifey wincestuous-deductions's birthday. I hope this makes up for the delay, cutie!! I love you. 
> 
> Please don't mind the title. I suck so much at titles. *hides*

It was already getting late when Sam came in with burgers and a beer. Dean’s didn’t smile, but his eyes lit up and he pushed himself up against the headboard of his bed. He eagerly took the plate and drink out of his brother’s hands, and took a bite. Sam stood there, next to him, just looking at him--and Dean felt like maybe he was supposed to say something. Apologize, or just smile at him, at least. He couldn’t. He only looked up when Sam turned around and disappeared from his bedroom, shoulders slumped and tired.

While he was eating his food, Dean started feeling even more guilty than he had felt after remembering everything he’d done and said while he was--a demon. He hadn’t been possessed, it had all been  _him_ , just a little twisted--and it scared him. Dean had always believed nothing could ever make him turn on Sam, that they would always be a safe haven for each other, a home. But Dean hadn’t felt that when he stood there with Sam’s knife on his throat; he’d felt anger and disgust. It had only taken a small twist of his soul to do that.

When he finally finished the giant--and  _delicious_ \--burger his brother had brought him, Dean dragged himself out of bed and into the library, wearing his favorite sweatpants and nothing else. He raised an eyebrow when there was no angel and no brother to be seen, just a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass next to it on one of the desks. He had expected Sam or at least Castiel to... keep an eye on him, maybe. Make sure he wouldn’t turn into something awful again.

Next, Dean looked for Sam in Sam’s own bedroom, and it was only logical that he did find Sam there. What he hadn’t expected, though, was the state he found Sam in. There was  _another_  whiskey bottle on the night stand next to Sam, and he had apparently fallen asleep fully clothed and on top of the covers--drunk. Dean’s chest tightened with guilt when he realized his brother had to  _drink himself to sleep_  after everything that happened.

“Sammy?” Dean croaked, and he moved closer. He eyed Sam’s jeans and the flannel shirt, which was twisted around his biceps from tossing and turning in his sleep. That didn’t look comfortable. Dean shuffled even closer, until he could sit down on the bed next to Sam’s torso. Even asleep, Sam looked troubled. Maybe he was having nightmares--Dean killing him, Dean telling him everything bad in their lives had been his fault.

Dean sniffed, and, annoyed that he was getting emotional while Sam wasn’t even awake, harshly rubbed at his eyes. With shaky hands, he started unbuttoning Sam’s shirt until he could push it over his shoulders. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen his brother naked before, but he couldn’t help but stop to look at Sam’s chest. There were some new scars, and Dean’s stomach turned when he couldn’t remember what they were from--he hadn’t been there when Sam got them. He traced one of the longer ones with his fingers, until he realised what he was doing was kind of weird, and he quickly pulled back his hand. He went back to systematically taking Sam’s clothes off.

“Dean,” Sam moaned when Dean tried to pull him up so he could remove the shirt, and Dean froze like he had been caught doing something he wasn’t allowed to do.

“Um.”

“What are you--” Sam’s hands tried to move up to touch Dean, but the shirt around his elbows kept him from it. “Oh,” he murmured, and he quickly pulled the shirt off himself, lying down after.

“You fell asleep,” Dean said, stating the obvious. And then, softer, “I’m sorry.”

”Don’t be,” Sam replied immediately, squirming out of his jeans next to Dean--and Dean tried his best not to peek at Sam’s bare skin again. “You weren’t you.”

“Yeah, and I should’ve listened to you so I would’ve  _stayed_ me, and didn’t--wouldn’t have  _hurt_ you like I did,” Dean’s voice broke and he stared down at his hands in his lap.

“Hey, come on, we’ll get over it,” Sam murmured, sitting up and putting his hand on Dean’s back. His hand was warm, and Dean shivered when he suddenly realized how cold he was, sitting there with bare feet and no shirt. He watched his brother’s face, wanting to believe him  _so_ bad. Sam seemed to consider something, and his gaze slowly drifted to the empty side of his bed. “You’re cold,” he said slowly, voice tight.

“Um--yeah. Yeah, I should go back...”

“No.” Sam’s hand fell from Dean’s back, and he placed it on top of Dean’s hands in his lap. Dean stared; the guy’s hands were so massive that one of them could just cover both of Dean’s.  _I should_ definitely  _go back to my room_ , Dean’s mind warned him, because he had a feeling weird things were going to happen if he was going to stay there half-naked in bed with his brother.

He stayed anyway; let Sam’s pleading eyes pull him into bed with him--and it scared Dean that he probably wouldn’t even have needed Sam’s puppy eyes to want to do that. Sam shifted to the cold side of the bed, and Dean slipped under warm covers, and everything smelled like Sam. He had missed it so much, being close to his brother. Driving next to him, a hand on his shoulder, having Sam’s back, patching each other up after the more dangerous hunts.

It felt like just that wasn’t enough anymore, though. Just Sam’s presence next to him--it was  _bearable_ , Dean could  _breathe_ , but it felt like he was breathing through a straw, or inside a burning building. It wasn’t enough.

He stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, but were probably only minutes, and he concentrated on Sam’s movement beside him. Sam’s steady breathing, Sam’s warmth radiating even with a few inches between them. There must’ve seemed something off about him, though, because Sam turned on his side and watched him.

“Dean?” he whispered carefully, as if their Dad was still sleeping in the next room and he couldn’t know that Sam still crawled into his big brother’s bed at night.

Dean swallowed, and made a small sound in the back of his throat-- _God_ , he sounded so vulnerable, so broken.

“Hey.” Sam’s voice was closer, and Dean squeezed his eyes closed when he could feel Sam’s warm breath on his jaw. “Hey,” he said again, and now there was a warm hand on Dean’s forearm. Dean’s breath hitched and he opened his eyes, turned to look at Sam. The light was dim, but he could see the small frown--concerned. Dean should be concerned about Sam, he should be apologizing, he should be comforting his little brother.

But he couldn’t say anything, just stared at him with a frightened look.

“It’s okay, Dean. Really. I’m fine. Go to sleep,” Sam murmured, his voice low and calm, reassuring. “You can go to sleep.” His hand moved to Dean’s stomach, and when Dean didn’t do anything to stop him, he slowly moved it all the way to the other side of Dean’s torso, curled his finger around his hip, and stroked the dip next to Dean’s hip bone with his thumb. Dean shivered, and closed his eyes again. They stayed like that until Dean fell asleep, and Sam moved into a less awkward and uncomfortable position--but still close enough to Dean.

***

Sam woke up on top of his brother’s backside, his leg stuck between Dean’s thighs and his arm squashed under Dean’s chest. His nose was neatly tucked into the small space between Dean’s neck and his shoulder. His dick was comfortably lined up with Dean’s ass crack, and he groaned with embarrassment.

“Sammy,” said Dean in a croaky voice which really shouldn’t be that sexy.

“Um.” Sam started to untangle his moose-like limbs from his brother’s, but Dean seemed to squeeze his legs together to keep him put. “Dean?”

“Stay,” Dean mumbled, obviously still half asleep. After a moment, he turned his head to look at Sam, who held his breath when their noses almost touched. Dean smiled at him, effortlessly, and Sam was suddenly overwhelmed with happiness--because Dean was  _happy_ , Dean was smiling and his eyes twinkled and he looked peaceful and  _happy_. Sam didn’t wish for anything but that--his brother being happy, being happy to be close to  _him_.

The night before, Sam had worried. That maybe, Dean had meant all that. Didn’t mean to  _say_  it so directly per se, but that the demon in him just brought everything he felt deep down--up. Made him tell the truth about how he felt. It had scared Sam, made him feel miserable--the thought that Dean was tired of him, fed up with him, would rather not be around him as much as he was, would rather not be responsible for his little brother anymore.

In all his excitement from that earnest little smile, Sam pushed forward and pressed their lips together, softly, chastely, and he pulled back before either of them could even move. He breathed out, and stared into his brother’s impossibly green eyes. They were wide open in shock.

Selfishly, Sam kept his arms around Dean and his leg between Dean’s thighs, because he  _really_ didn’t want to move away from him--only if Dean told him to. But he didn’t, he just looked down at Sam’s lips and licked his own, and Sam waited with nervous impatience until Dean would say something.

_Get away from me_ , or  _kiss me again_ , maybe.

As per usual, Dean chose not to talk about it. He squirmed underneath Sam until he was on his back, but held onto his brother to let him know he didn’t want him to leave. If it was up to Dean, they’d stay right there, in Sam’s warm, comfortable bed, together and half-naked--or possibly entirely naked--for the rest of eternity. He knew they couldn’t, though, so he decided to make the best of the time they had together before some kind of monster decided it needed to be hunted and killed.

Dean made sure Sam’s tall legs were comfortable and his hands weren’t being crushed and their hips were pressed snugly together--Sam stared at him with awe during all of this--and then he pulled his brother down into a kiss again.

It was different. They were sure, now. Dean’s tongue demandingly swiped along Sam’s bottom lip and his fingers were sliding into his hair and their bodies were pressed together and Sam’s skin was burning up, but he still parted his lips greedily, licked into Dean’s mouth and not-so-subtly rocked his hips against his brother’s. Nothing about the way they touched each other was shy, it was like they’d known their whole lives that they were meant to be like this, be each other’s in every way. Dean’s fingers slid down along Sam’s chest and his ribcage, down his back, and his fingertips could just barely reach the waist of Sam’s boxers. Sam was pawing at Dean’s hips, loved how his wide hips and the flesh that covered it fit so nicely in his massive hands, he was already thinking about how he could hold those hips in different positions, and he couldn’t decide what he wanted Dean to do next.

Bend over for him, ride him, pull up his knees and let Sam fuck him like that, everything sounded perfect to Sam.

He soon realized he should stop thinking about fucking Dean while rutting against him like a teenager, and do something about it. Sam reluctantly stopped making out with Dean so enthusiastically, moved on to sucking hickeys on his neck (which-- _God_ \--made Dean whimper), and started working Dean’s boxers off, and then his own.

Sam had never done anything with another guy, and he was pretty sure Dean didn’t have any experience with it either, but they made it work. Dean’s hand felt amazing on him, even if it was a weird angle and he apparently liked to be a little more rough on himself than Sam, but Sam hoped they would do this kind of thing often enough to teach each other what they liked best.

“Sam--” Dean panted after a while. They had their hands wrapped around each other’s cocks, and Dean had his legs tightly wrapped around Sam’s waist. Sam was surprised that that was the first real thing Dean said apart from the small sounds--that Dean hadn’t made a comment about how Dean  _clearly_ had the bigger dick of the two of them. Even if they were roughly the same size; Dean liked to exaggerate things like that.

“What’s it?” Sam whispered, his face buried in the space between Dean’s neck and his shoulder. He pushed himself up slightly with his free hand, so he could look at Dean’s face. He grinned when Dean looked completely  _fucked_ already--pink lips, flushed face, his pupils blown. Who knew Dean could look even sexier than he normally did?

”I wanna--want you to, um--fuck me,” Dean murmured, looking up at his brother with an almost innocent look, or-- _scared_ , maybe, Sam realized. Dean wasn’t sure if Sam wanted to go that far with him. He leaned down to give Dean a soft kiss.

“You sure?” Sam asked, nudging his nose against Dean’s in the weirdest and sweetest gesture ever--Dean was probably going to joke about that later. Dean didn’t think about cracking jokes right then, though; he nodded excitedly and pushed his hips up into Sam’s hand.

“Please.”

Sam was convinced, then; he was going to fuck Dean. Fuck his brother. It was the weirdest and most exciting thing he’d ever done, and he almost blacked out even  _thinking_ about the possibilities. He didn’t, though--he had to think about things like getting his fingers up there and making sure that Dean’s ass was open and slick for him.

“Okay,” he said quietly, thinking. “Okay. Okay. Do you have lube somewhere?”

Dean groaned. “’N my room somewhere. Do it without--please, please, Sammy,” he pleaded, and it was ridiculously hot to have Dean begging for him like this. Sam would almost say yes.

“Yeah, no, Dean. Wait here, baby,” Sam said, very much ignoring how he called Dean ‘baby’ as he crawled out of bed and padded over to Dean’s bedroom.

When he came back, Dean was beautifully splayed out for him on his bed, the sheets just covering his shins, and his right hand wrapped around his own dick. Sam watched him for a moment, just taking in how beautiful his brother really was. Sam had personally mourned many small freckles that had faded from Dean’s face, but his shoulders and arms were still littered with them, and Sam wanted to look at them for hours.

Dean, though, had other ideas. Sam was looking at him with dark eyes and flushed skin, and it gave Dean a massive confidence boost. He gasped, softly, and then when Sam looked up at his face, he did it again. He let his head fall back with closed eyes as he pumped himself, slicking his dick up with precome.

“Sam,” he murmured, opening his legs for Sam, his left hand sliding down his own thigh.

Sam couldn’t just stand and  _watch_  any longer; he struggled to get himself on the bed without falling over, and blanketed himself over his brother. For a moment, he looked a little lost, and Dean quickly helped him get them both in a comfortable position.

“Like that,” Dean said, pulling Sam on his knees between his thighs.

“Okay.” Sam was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this was  _actually happening_.

Sam leaned down to press his lips against Dean’s’, who greedily kissed back, biting and licking at Sam’s mouth, and Sam would’ve kissed him deeply forever if Dean hadn’t pulled his attention back to his ass. Dean was spreading his legs even wider, putting his feet flat on the bed and demandingly wiggled his hips at Sam.

Sam sat up, slowly, his hands sliding down his brother’s chest until they were on his pelvis. Dean looked beautiful, and-- _hot_ , too, open and exposed, just for Sam. He was possibly at his most vulnerable and he wasn’t even shy about it.

Sam reached for the small bottle of lube, slicking up his fingers with a generous amount of lube before he put it away and got to work. He just stroked against Dean’s hole a little at first, pushed his thumb against it and massaged the rim, making it wet and at the same time letting Dean get used to the feeling.

“ _Sam,_ ” Dean pleaded. “Please just--hurry up.” Sam looked up, and had to stop himself from making an embarrassing sound when he saw Dean. He was biting down on his lips, his skin was flushed and his eyes dark. He looked almost frustrated--and Sam felt a bit guilty.

He didn’t hurry too much, wanted this to be good for Dean. Sam started working his fingers inside, started with his index finger, an inch at first, and Dean  _gasped_ , he whispered filthy things under his breath and Sam wished he could hear what he was saying.

By the time he had three fingers inside, Dean was desperately trying not to beg Sam to get his dick in there already. He was still biting his lip, and Sam almost felt annoyed that he wouldn’t just let go and  _beg_ and make all those delicious sounds Sam would never get enough of. Dean’s hands were twisted in the sheets, his eyes screwed shut tightly, and his cock was dribbling precome on his stomach. Sam sucked in a breath--and prayed to whatever god that Dean would want to do this again and  _again_ , and that he would let Sam kiss him all over and that he would let Sam do all those other things he wanted to do to his brother.

When Sam removed his slippery fingers, Dean whimpered--and Sam did his best to file that gorgeous sound away somewhere in his memory. 

“’S okay.” Sam put a hand on Dean’s stomach. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, Dean.”

” _Please_ , Sammy,” Dean mumbled, desperately trying to grind his hips down on  _something_. Sam moved his hand to Dean’s cock, slowly stroked him once, twice, watched Dean’s lips part and his breathing stutter.

He let go for a second to slick himself up, then pulled Dean’s hips closer and lined his cock up with Dean’s hole, pressing the head of his cock against the slippery pink rim, watching himself slide inside his brother.

They both groaned when Sam pushed past the first ring of muscle, but after that, it felt like Dean’s body was craving for Sam filling him up, pulling him inside and clenching around him.

“Tell me how it feels,” Sam gasped as he lowered his chest to Dean’s again; one hand holding himself up next to Dean’s shoulder, the other hand on his hip, thumb stroking his skin. Dean looked up to him, eyes dark and open and Sam’s chest tightened because there was  _something else_ there, too.

“Hot,” Dean choked out. Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck and bit down on the soft and warm skin there, and Dean made that gorgeous sound again.

He was right, too, it was  _hot_. Sam had felt it around his fingers, the tight heat and the intimacy of being inside someone; but this felt even better. He could feel Dean’s heels digging into his lower back, pulling him closer and deeper until his balls were pressed against Dean’s ass. Sam felt like he would soon pass out, and then Dean  _moved_. He started carefully rocking his hips the best he could, sliding himself off of Sam’s dick and pushing him back inside.

Sam replied with a muffled moan against Dean’s throat, and then a thrust. It was experimental and slow, but it felt good--and Dean apparently thought the same, going by the surprised groan that he couldn’t quite keep in. Sam didn’t want him to keep it in. So he did it again.

He sped up, holding Dean’s waist tightly down against the mattress so he could fuck into him. Dean liked it--or  _loved_  it--and small gasps came tumbling past his lips every time Sam thrust back inside him.

Sam’s lips were pressed against Dean’s jaw and their cheeks were touching, stubble scraping against each other every time they moved. Sam didn’t dare look at Dean.

“Love this so much, fuck  _yeah_ , you’re so hot,”Dean told him between moans, and Sam’s hips stuttered at the sound of Dean’s voice. “Feels fuckin’ amazing, Sammy, please,  _god_.” Dean was grabbing onto his shoulders, his back, fingers pressing into his skin. Sam knew he was close.

Dean honest-to-God  _whined_ , high-pitched voice and everything, when Sam hit a certain spot inside of him.  _That_ spot. Sam knew about it. And he tugged Dean’s hips closer and slammed into that small, happy bundle of nerves.

“ _Shit, shit, shit,_ Sammy--”

After a few more thrusts, Dean came untouched and hot, his body clenching down on Sam’s dick and spilling a warm sticky mess between both of their stomachs. He was desperately trying to pull Sam closer, trying to make them into one--but Sam had to pull away, just a little, just enough to watch Dean’s face as he came  _because of Sam_. Sam followed while Dean was still trembling, gasping and hips stuttering, his eyes fixed on Dean’s closed eyes and his pink cheeks and plush, wet lips.

“Dean,” Sam breathed agaisnt those lips, and Dean opened his eyes--bright, familiar green--and Sam looked at him while he filled his brother up with the last of his load. “Fuck, I--  _Dean_.”

Sam collapsed on top of Dean, not caring about the puddle of sticky come between them, and he buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck again. Dean held his little brother tightly against him like he was never going to let him move away. Sam managed to peel one of Dean’s arms off of him and laced their fingers together.

Relieved--that’s how Sam felt. Because this was his brother,  _his_ brother, the one who loved him most and cared for him and always had his back. The brother for whom he would travel to the end of the world and back again. Dean, who told Sam he loved him by pushing his hair back, and touching his shoulder, and calling him names. Dean who could never lie to Sam, not when everything was right there in his eyes--something Sam had missed in the demon. The worry from the night before had seeped out of Sam’s mind to make place for all the things he loved about Dean--and the comforting thought that they would always find their way back to each other.

After lying like that for a while, sighing and reveling in each other’s breathing, each other’s hot skin, Sam heard Dean sniff.

“Are you crying?” Sam murmured against Dean’s shoulder, half-teasing and half-concerned.

“No!” Dean replied too quickly, before bringing his free hand up to his face to undoubtly rub his eyes. He didn’t sound disstressed or broken or wrong, though. He just sounded happy. Sam tried to pull himself closer to him, and Dean answered by wrapping one of his legs around one of Sam’s, the sole of his foot rubbing Sam’s calf.

“Hm,” Sam hummed, and he made sure Dean could feel him smirk against his skin. “We should get cleaned up.”

“ _No_ ,” Dean said again, and squeezed Sam’s hand.


End file.
